Part 20 (1/2)
He sounded relaxed, confident, perhaps a bit playful. She wanted to kick him in the s.c.r.o.t.e. ”I think we should get to know each other a little,” she said. ”Don't you?”
”But slowly. You know my name, but I don't know yours.”
”Come around, I'll show you my birth certificate.”
”Will you show me your badge, too?”
”What can I do for you, Serge?” She deliberately misp.r.o.nounced his name.
”Perhaps we can do something for each other.”
”Such as?”
”Are you looking for something up there?”
”Well, you know, I kind of inherited all this stuff. It's mine now.”
”I believe Mr. Delisle had something that didn't belong to him.”
”Really? Paulie? Like what?”
”I believe he is also missing something that did belong to him.”
Her voice hardened. ”Such as?”
”You tell me. You're in his apartment. Is everything there that should be there?”
”Far as I know. Well I haven't looked everywhere yet. Paulie was big on storage. You ever been up here, Serge?”
”Let me just say that I might know where your partner's missing item wound up.”
”You have it?”
”Not personally. I wouldn't want to be in possession of something that could be connected to a serious crime.”
”Of course not. But you know where this something is?”
”Shall we say I might be able to find out.”
”I see.”
”How hard I look would be directly related to how hard you were looking for what belongs to me.”
”Want to give me a hint?”
”Use your imagination. I'll be in touch.” He hung up.
She shook the grinder, listened to the beans rattle, wondered for a moment if one could pulverize coffee beans with a hammer. The door buzzer sounded and she picked up her weapon and crossed the room. So soon, Serge? Love to get a look at you, you slimeball. Maybe pulverize you with a hammer. ”Yes?”
”It's Stacy. Too early?”
”Not a chance. C'mon up.”
She put her weapon on top of the brown envelope and took herself to the bathroom to wash the Serge off her face.
Adele looked sh.e.l.l-shocked, raw, her face scrubbed red, her hair wet in front. Stacy smiled anyway. Adele pulled her through the door. ”Can you make coffee?” There was hope in her voice. ”I mean, do you know how?”
”Sure. What have you got?”
”Oh Christ, everything. Except instant.”
Stacy took off her leather jacket and folded it over the back of a club chair. ”Wow, look at this place.”
”I think he was going for the New Orleans wh.o.r.ehouse look,” Adele said.
”From memory?”
”Who knows? Kitchen's over here. Need coffee. Need it bad.”
It turned out you just had to push down on the grinder to get it going. Who knew?
Stacy got a pot brewing, located cups, checked the refrigerator. ”We're creamless.”
”Okay by me.”
”Me, too,” She admired the kitchen, s.h.i.+ny surfaces, pots and pans organized. ”Kept a nice place,” she said.
”Oh yeah. He was a fastidious f.u.c.ker. How many single guys have a s.h.i.+ny toilet bowl?”
”That would impress the girlfriends.”
”I don't think he ever brought one up here. I mean it. Asked him once, said he didn't like long goodbyes. Gone like a cool breeze, that was Paulie.”
They watched the coffee dripping far too slowly into the carafe. Stacy broke the silence. ”His piece wasn't here?”
”I wish. Nope. Found some other stuff, though.”
”Such as?”
Adele waved off the question, took her time, long enough to get her first sip. ”Bless you,” she said. ”Follow me. Sit down over there.” She emptied keys and spare change out of the bra.s.s bowl and put it on the coffee table in front of Stacy. ”You said jewels, right?”
”Yes.”
”Big jewels.” She s.h.i.+fted her weapon, picked up the envelope, shook it gently. ”Check these out.” She tilted the envelope, the bra.s.s bowl rang like a tiny gong.
”Oh yeah.” Stacy looked at them for a long breath. ”Big jewels.”
”Maybe like Russian crown jewels?”
”Might as well be.” She poked them with a finger. ”And they're real?”